Controlled Rebellion
by andsheran00
Summary: The Aztec kingdom- a huge one, a powerful one. It's being destroyed slowly over time, and it has been for a while, but many were oblivious to it. Including small little Mexico. After an encounter, Spain wants to colonize Mexico- and soon gets his wish. Mexico is not pleased at all. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Fate (Chapter 1)

(A/N: I don't know much about Aztec rituals- sorry if something's incorrect!)

*I do not own Hetalia.

A small child sat on the floor, watching the ceremony. The child seemed around nine or ten, with average height. It was a sacred day- or, at least, that's what his father told him. People sang, and everyone was waiting to eat- everyone was fasting that day. It would be a long day, but nevertheless, a fun one. Suddenly, the child felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, there was a very tall man staring back at him. He gave him a cheeky smile, before he picked him up and started walking towards a small pyramid. It was here that all of the "royals" were supposed to sit. Instead of participating in the ceremony, the child now had to sit and watch with his father.

"Ah, Mexico, I am glad that they could find you. Now sit and watch." Aztec smiled at the child- otherwise known as Mexico. Sighing, the child sat on the floor next to his father. His skin was tan, just like Aztec's, and he had long, wild hair. This was a common characteristic of the Aztec people, nothing special. Mexico looked up at Aztec. "When can we eat?" "We can eat after we satisfy the gods. Now be quiet and watch, we have to wait until sunset."

It took a long time, but sunset came around. Young Mexico almost fell asleep a few times, only to be scolded by a nearby slave- Aztec ordered the slaves to make sure he was paying attention. Mexico would catch himself looking at his father every once and a while. Aztec looked godlike, with feathers in his long hair and many pieces of gold around his body. He had paint on his face, and a very nice robe. Mexico looked somewhat like his father, but without so much gold. It was too uncomfortable for the boy, so he removed many of the pieces. He also didn't have as many tattoos as his father- Mexico only had one, and that was around his wrist (A tribal tattoo).

Aztec slowly got up, and it took a few seconds for everyone to notice. Everyone was silent, and Aztec nodded. Priests hurried out, and a young man followed them. They set up a peculiar looking stone, and the man laid down on it. Praises to the gods were yelled and cried, and many people chanted with them- including Aztec. A spear was brought down, and pierced the young man's chest. Ripping out the heart, a particularly short priest threw it into a nearby fire. Everyone cheered, including Mexico (but only because it was finally time to eat).

Oh, Mexico stuffed his face with everything and anything. After the ritual was over, food was brought out. Delicious meats and fruits were everywhere- fasting for a whole day could do wonders to one's stomach. It was a glorious night, and eventually the small child fell asleep next to Aztec's chair.

Mexico woke up in his room. He was practically blinded by the light coming into his room- there were no windows, only holes in the wall. He happened to be unlucky and get one where the sun shined in every day. He was on top of a soft cushion, made of leather and stuffed with grass. It was comfortable. There was gold imbedded into his walls, which was very rare, but otherwise the house was made of whitewashed stone. It was a very nice house, compared to others. The thing is, Mexico did not live with his father. He lived with his general caretaker, which was a nice old woman. Her name was Culture, which was a very strange one. She generally cooked and made sure he was safe. He found her, and then said he was going into the forest to play. She smiled, nodded, and said that she was going to make something to eat for later.

Small little Mexico ran, weaving his away around the crowd and running towards a nearby forest. Many children played around there, but never dared to go too deep into it. Mexico, however, knew his way around. The only place he didn't know was by the ocean, where his father told him to never go. Finally getting to the huge trees, he ran inside, dodging roots and branches. He enjoyed scaring the animals and eating berries (that he knew were safe). He carried around a small stone dagger, just in case- but he had no idea how to use it correctly.

He ran around, climbed trees, and was generally being mischievous. Picking berries off one of the plants, he ate them all, leaving a red stain around his mouth. He went deeper and deeper into the forest, but he knew where he was. That only lasted a while, though. He decided to explore even more- that was a very bad idea. He became unfamiliar with the environment. All the landmarks that he knew were gone, but he could hear the ocean. He knew that if he could find the beach, he could look around and determine how to get home. Mexico was happy that he came up with this clever plan- it wouldn't fail! Like his caretaker said, although he was small, he was clever- something he probably inherited from his mother, Mayan. According to Culture, she was a beautiful woman, but something happened to her. Something about white men- Mexico didn't pay much attention. He didn't remember much.

He explored some more, trying to find the beach. The trees became thinner and thinner, and finally, he saw clear white sand only a few feet away. He ran towards the beach, a determined look on his small face. His father told him to never go here- however, it was necessary right now. He finally made it to a clearing, and cautiously put one foot onto the sand. It went in between his toes, warm and grainy. Another step turned into a few more steps. Mexico was soon on his knees, playing with the sand.

He made faces in the sand and lumped the sand together to form small hills. He wasn't paying attention to anything else- just the sand. _Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._ The sound of cracking leaves could be heard. Mexico whipped his head around, thinking that he might have accidentally walked onto another tribe's land. It wasn't that at all. Three very pale men were walking around in the forest behind him, oblivious to his presence. Mexico's eyes widened, and he quickly got up. He ran to a particularly thick tree, and hid. He could faintly hear voices.

"Sh. Someone's here." "Eh, don't be so paranoid. The savages don't come this far down here- we specifically marked this place for our own." "I said, someone's here! Bet you can find footprints somewhere on the beach or something- I head running." Two of the men were arguing, until a third interrupted. "Be quiet, you two! If you really want to go down to the beach, go. I will stay here." Mexico's heart was racing- he couldn't climb the tree, the third man would see him. He couldn't run

either- the third man was still there. He couldn't run back to the beach, either. He heard a yell. "You owe me gold, I was right!" He slowly took out his stone dagger, his mind racing. He did not know there people, and he knew they were probably dangerous. He wanted to cry.

He could hear footsteps, the crunching of sand, get closer and closer. His hands grew sweaty, and he had a death grip on the small dagger. Eventually, they stopped. He suddenly felt a large pair of hands on his shoulders, and he was thrown into the sand. "Found you." He was dragged by his shirt to the third man. He was practically choking, struggling. He didn't even get the chance to defend himself. It felt like forever, but the man stopped walking. Mexico was thrown to his feet, and was suddenly facing a very pale man. The man was very tall (In Mexico's eyes) and has short, curly hair. The man had a strange choice of clothing- he had a red and gold top with a black bottom. He had never seen anything like that before. Mexico, however, had a red and green bottom piece (Kind of like shorts), feathers in his hair, and golden bracelets.

"Oh~. Who are you, little boy?" Mexico glared at the man, not giving an answer. After a while, the man frowned. "My name is España. Or Spain, same thing. Give me your gold." After a while, he scowled. He looked at the two other men, who were both restraining the boy. "Get his gold." Yelping, the golden bracelets were taken off and thrown to the ground, revealing his small tribal tattoo. Spain picked up the bracelets, and shoved them in his pocket.

"Mijo, are you going to give me your name?" The man-or, as he called himself, _Spain_- was slowly getting angrier and angrier. Seeing that, Mexico finally spoke. "Mexico. Now let me go." "Ah, Mexico… do you happen to know where Aztec is?" Spain purred. "No." "Liar!" Slapped across the face, the small child's eyes were tearing up. "I see your tattoo, child. Tell me where he is." Mexico looked up. "You need to follow me, then. But you have to let me go." Spain looked at him suspiciously, but then looked at the other two men. "Let him go." Before they could react, Mexico turned around, and promptly stabbed one of the men in the crotch. Crying out, the man fell to the floor. Before he could run, however, Spain grabbed his arm. The other man picked up the injured, and quietly made a comment about finding a doctor. It was only Spain and Mexico.

"You will tell me where he is- Your tribe has relocated, and it's been very troublesome for us." Cheeks blazing, he nodded. "Yes… follow me…" He led Spain, still restrained, in circles. He went very close to his city, but didn't get very close. "Stop walking." Mexico stopped, and his heart sank. A boy, maybe about 12 years old, was eating fruit off of a tree. He was about 20 feet away. In his head, he was yelling at the boy to run away. Dragging Mexico, Spain walked over to the boy. "Ey! Boy!" The boy looked up, and his eyes widened. He looked very frightened. "Tell me where the city is." Nodding, the boy slowly started walking towards the city, leading Spain. The city started to come into sight. Walking faster, Spain caught up to the boy, and grabbed his hand, forcing him to stop. The boy looked up, and his neck was promptly broken. Crying out, Mexico tried to reach the boy, but Spain stopped him. "It was the will of Jesus Christ. He was a savage anyway- a fate I will save you from, my little Mexico…" Tears streamed down Mexico's face, he had just witnessed a murder.

Dragging Mexico by the arm, Spain slowly walked through the people. Many gasped and fled, but some simply stared. The way Spain walked, it was as if he was about to kill someone- but he already did that. He looked around, and looked down at Mexico. "Where is Aztec?" Mexico said nothing, only to get slapped. "Mijo. Where is Aztec? _Your father?_" Shakily, he pointed to a very big house in the distance. Spain walked very quickly, dragging Mexico along. Mexico could not escape his death grip- he wondered if he would get bruises. They eventually stood in front of the house. It was nicely done, with whitewashed, polished stone. It had carvings in the side, and there were golden decorations. Spain walked right inside, and wandered throughout the hallways. He eventually found very big room, and smiled. It was not a kind smile; it was a smile that was full of poison and bloodlust. A smile that could kill. It was more of a smirk than a smile, in fact. He walked into the room, and, just like predicted, Aztec was there. Turning around, Aztec looked extremely surprised. Anger soon followed. "What do you need, Spain?" "I am here to ask for your son." Spain narrowed his eyes, still "smiling". "I will not let you have my son. Never." Aztec growled.

Sighing, Spain dropped Mexico. Feeling the blood rush back to his arm, he yelped. He sniffled, tears running down his face. "Fine. Have it your way, amigo. I will have your son, eventually… Or it might not even take long! Who knows?" He chuckled to himself, and gave Aztec a piercing glare. "I will be back, though." He walked out of the room swiftly; his footsteps could be heard throughout the entire house. As soon as they could not be heard, Aztec rushed to his son. "Mexico. What happened?" Sniffling, Mexico explained what had happened. He cringed when he came to the part about the boy in the woods. Aztec grimly nodded. "Go back to your caretaker. I will take care of this."

Protesting slightly, the child pouted. Getting a stern look from Aztec, he scurried back to "his house". People stared as he walked past, their eyes holding something terrible: fear. All because he decided to goof off and go close to the beach. Mexico sighed, shamed. He wasn't exactly sure if Spain was going to do something horrible, but he had a very bad feeling. Running inside the house, he bumped into Culture. When she asked where he had been, he told her everything, tears streaming down his face. She comforted him, but never once said, "It's going to be okay." He fell asleep, even though it was still very early.

When he woke up, he wasn't in his home- He was in his fathers. Confused, he realized that he was being carried in someone's arms. Blood was splattered on his clothes. Looking up, vision still foggy, he tried to identify the man holding him for about a minute or two. Once he did, he immediately felt cold. Spain. He was talking to his father, on the other side of the room. He dared not to move; to pretend that he was asleep. He listened to his father and Spain- it was strangely silent outside.

"We can work out a compromise, Aztec. I destroyed your army-all of you are savages. I might have done your son a favor; he won't be one of them." With a velvety tone, the older man shifted his feet. He hadn't noticed before, but Spain had a strange accent. Biting his tongue, Mexico still pretended to be asleep. "I… Depends on the compromise you have come up with." The voice sounded broken. Was this his father? "Yes… I take the boy, and then I kill you. If you want to keep the boy, I kill you and take the boy." A dark laugh. "Very well. Maybe we can switch the roles, instead?" "I never said anything about that." Mexico was gently set on the ground by the door. Opening his eyes, he sat up. Spain had a silver sword out, and his father had two long daggers. Getting up, Mexico ran out of the room. He ran back to his home. He had to get Culture. They had to leave. His father could handle him, right?

It was strangely quiet in the village. There was a strange rusty, metallic smell that was spread about. He had only smelled it once- after his mother, Maya, was said to be… gone. He smelled that smell. He wasn't sure what happened, though. He heard a yell behind him, and footsteps, but that only drove him to run faster. He ran into his small house, only to see the whitewashed wall stained with red. Gasping, he stood in the doorway. Culture was below him, face down. He clothes were ripped, and the blood was coming from her. Tears fell from his eyes. Out of breath, he patted his pockets. His dagger was still there. Pulling it out, he cried harder. He still heard footsteps behind him.

Turning around slowly, he saw a tall man. The man had strange clothes, just as Spain had. With a cocky smile, the man got closer. "Get closer, boy… Spain would be angry if you ran off." He clenched his teeth. Tears were freefalling- he couldn't control himself. Letting out a bloodcurdling scream, he ran towards the man, and sunk the knife in his jugular.

He hadn't even realized what he had done. It was all on impulse. His heart sank, but this man was not a part of him. This man was not one of his people. This man tried to capture him. He had done what his father told him to do if someone tried to grab him- why did he feel so bad? Mexico sat on top of the man, ignoring the gurgling and choking beneath him. He hid his face in his hands. Another man came by, but this time, he didn't put up a fight.


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N: This chapter will mostly be Mexico adjusting to things! Please review! :3

Also, Mexico's new name is "New Spain".)

*I do not own Hetalia!

Kicking and screaming, New Spain was thrown into a strange room. The room reeked of strange fragrances, most of which he couldn't identify. "You can come out when you behave." A voice said sternly. The unfamiliar adult closed the room, and the click of a lock was heard. Choking back a sob, he put his head down into his hands. The boat ride had been terrifying- almost six whole months were wasted there! It was terribly boring. The food they gave him was peculiar tasting, and the clothes they offered him were itchy and uncomfortable. He was also bathed several times, and it was an uncomfortable experience. They even cut his hair- what nerve!

Getting up, he walked over to the small bed in the corner of the room. The concept of a bed was strange. Sitting on top of it, he slowly sank down into the cushiony rectangle. He slowly ran his hand through his shortened hair. It was down to his ears and stuck up in every direction. He hated it. Slowly getting up, he took off his shirt, and examined it in his hands. It was a stunning red with golden borders, silky smooth and long sleeved. His pants were plain black. He looked so… wrong in this type of clothing. He threw the shirt to the corner of the room, frustrated. Looking towards the large window, he walked over to it and jumped through. He was now outside in a very large garden. The sun was welcome onto his skin, and it warmed him. He closed his eyes in bliss. Feeling the grass in between his toes, feeling the wind blowing against him… it was all very, very welcome.

He smiled and opened his eyes. He walked into the garden, looking at the flowers and the trees. It then occurred to him that this was Spain's garden, and not his. His facial expression immediately soured. He huffed, and turned around, ready to go back to his room. "Hey! You! What're you doing out?!" He flinched, but the voice seemed young and smooth. It was also coming from behind him. Turning around slowly, he saw an older boy- maybe twelve or thirteen. He had defined features, and was about three heads taller than New Spain. His skin was a bit darker than New Spain's, and his hair was pitch black. The boy ran up to him, a concerned look on his face. He also seemed to have brown eyes- just like New Spain's, except lighter.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be out- wait, you are New Spain, correct?" New Spain nodded, cautious. He took a step back, a lump in his throat. The older boy crossed his arms. "Eh… no need to be afraid. My name is Peru. You've spent so much time in your room being punished that I doubt you even know there's other colonies." New Spain scowled, and straightened himself out. Coldly, he retorted, "I know there are other colonies. I've seen them before- I've never talked to one until now. And that's just because you interrupted me, peacefully minding my own business…" Whistling, Peru smiled darkly. "I can see why Spain's so frustrated with you. You obviously have no respect for your… _elders_." He pointed to himself, and sighed. "How long have you been here? It's obvious that you don't know much about Spain, or anyone else for that matter."

"I've been here about two weeks. Six months just getting over here to this stupid place. I have to go now. Bye, dumb-face." Snickering, New Spain turned to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't go. I have a lot to tell you about… Also, is dumb-face really your best insult?" Flustered, heat rose to New Spain's cheeks. "Of course not! I have a million others… stupid-head! Spain-lover! A-""Childish. Come with me." Peru grabbed New Spain's hand, smaller than his own. Pulling him through the gardens (with protest from the younger), he finally settled in a remote area.

Peru finally let go of the young colony. "You may never be as prosperous as I am, but you can certainly give it a shot." Scowling, Mexico glared at the other colony. "I don't even want to be a colony…" A pained expression came over Peru's face. "I'm not sure if many of us wanted to be colonies in the first place. You'll get used to it." "How am I supposed to get used to it when he-""Do you not realize that he did the same thing to us?!" Letting out a deep sigh, Peru ran his fingers through his own hair. It was curly in an attractive way. "Sorry. Anyway, let me educate you so you don't screw up even more."

Sighing, New Spain plopped down on the soft grass. He looked up at Peru, and at that angle, he looked like a giant. "You see, you are already on Spain's bad side. I'm pretty sure most of us were at some point, but that is beside the point. You just have to suck up to him and he'll love you." He glanced down at New Spain. "Are you listening?" The younger nodded, bored. "Anyway… that means that you have to be nice to the old man_. Don't tell him I said that_… you have to eat his food. And read the Bible. And learn how to write, dress, act, and other things. Oh, and do it slowly. If he sees that all of a sudden you love him, he'll get suspicious! But eventually he'll think that you've actually warmed up to him, and he'll feel good about himself." Peru beamed at his own cleverness. "You'll be on his good side- he already is interested in you." New Spain stared at Peru, dumbfounded. "Why should I act to like him if I don't?" He got up and dusted himself off. Peru scoffed, "Do you really not know? So you won't get punished anymore. You need to meet more of the colonies instead of spending all your time in your room." "You're all going to just bore me." New Spain faked a yawn teasingly. "You're no fun, are you?" Peru sighed. "Well, what I told you was along the lines of what Cuba told me. He said Argentina told him that- and she's been here longer, so I wouldn't doubt it."

"We should get back." "Alright, princess." Peru muttered sarcastically. He got uncomfortably close to New Spain before picking him up and slinging him over his shoulder. With a surprised yelp from the other, Peru started whistling a familiar tune- he just couldn't place it. Struggling and yelling out ridiculously bad insults, New Spain was carried all the way back to his windowsill. Heaving the younger boy onto the windowsill, Peru put his hands at his sides and let out a groan. "You were way heavier than I thought- I almost let go of you when we were halfway!" Puffing, New Spain yelled, "You didn't even have to carry me- I have legs!" For some reason, Peru really pissed New Spain off. Not in an enemy kind of way, but… in a brother kind of way. He turned himself around and hopped into his room, to which Peru followed suit.

"Your room is boring." "Is yours much better?" "Yes." New Spain crossed his arms, an angry pout on his face. "Why would your room be better than mine?" "I have more stuff that's why. Anyway, I'm going to head back over to Argentina to see what she's doing. If you want to come, you can." Peru waltzed out of the door, and made a right turn down the arched hall. Mumbling something about being bored, New Spain followed suit. They took a couple twists and turns before New Spain couldn't tell where he was anymore. He didn't see anyone else on the way there too. They were slowly approaching another room- but this one was different. It had blue, white, and yellow decorating the sides of the arched entrance. Come to think about it, he had seen several doorways like this, except with different colors. Peru caught New Spain staring. "Oh, yeah. Colonies have their doorways painted. The colors are chosen at random, though. You can have many colors or maybe just one. I have… green, blue, yellow, white, and red." He yawned a little, and motioned for New Spain to follow him inside the already open doorway. New Spain pondered on his colors- green, red, white, and brown. It probably didn't mean anything though.

He trailed behind Peru slowly, stepping into the room. He looked around sheepishly, not quite comfortable in this new setting. There was a tall figure in the corner of the room, looking out the window into another garden. Without turning around, a feminine voice said, "Chile, is that you?" Peru grinned cheekily, and said loudly, "Even better... It's Peru!" Argentina immediately turned around angrily, before noticing the new face. "Oh… who is this?" Argentina had long brown hair that fell to her hips, and dark brown eyes. He skin was lighter than both Peru's and New Spain's, but it was a light, caramel color. She had thick eyebrows, large eyes, and plump lips. She looked about fourteen or fifteen.

"This is the newest colony- New Spain. I'm pretty sure you've heard of him." New Spain pouted, but Argentina's eyes widened. "The Mayan and Aztec Empire's son, right?" Peru scowled. "Most of us came from empires. It's not a very big surprise. Incan Empire, remember?" "Yes, I do," Argentina snapped. "But it is not relevant at the moment, and I doubt it will be for a while." She bit her lip before turning back to the small colony. "Anyway, you are a product of the two empires?" New Spain nodded slowly. Argentina immediately grabbed New Spain's shoulders, excited. "Oh, I've heard so much! Can you tell me about them?" Peru coughed, and muttered something about having to go meet someone. He slipped out of the room, and New Spain died a little on the inside. He did not know this girl very well…

Argentina was much more muscular than he had thought. His shoulders felt like they were slowly bruising. "Ah… stop!" She let go, looking at him with pleading eyes. "Please tell me about them- I've heard about fighting techniques." The colony blinked, his heart throbbing. He felt a rush in his veins, and he ran through his last day there again in his head: the death of Culture, his father, and the child in the forest… it was a very strange feeling. It wasn't grief, or anger. It was more like… hate. Hate towards the pathetic man that caused it. Looking away from Argentina, he said, "I didn't learn much fighting from my father… it was mostly just instructions he gave me if I fell into certain situations…" She nodded. "Maybe you could demonstrate it. I've wanted to get stronger lately... I can teach you some things also, if you would like." Confused, he nodded reluctantly. He didn't very much need it. "Before we do that… can you show me where Spain's room is?" He asked. She nodded, and took his hand. Leading him to the door, she looked down. "I don't know why you would want to see him at such a time. Your call, though."

(A/N: I think that Argentina would be pretty tough, but sweet too! Also, I also think that she would be interested in training and things of the sort. Also, Peru would be a big brother to New Spain… ah, head canons! Sorry that the chapter is a bit short!)


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